


Like a Vine around my Throat

by curtainsup



Category: Venom (Movie 2018)
Genre: Alien Sex, Dubious Consent, First Time, Interspecies Sex, M/M, Masturbation, Mind Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-09 06:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,069
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16444370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/curtainsup/pseuds/curtainsup
Summary: But orgasm is a surrender of sorts, and Venom has never surrendered to anything. They don’t know how.





	Like a Vine around my Throat

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to try a bit of a different, slower approach to sex with Eddie and Venom. Venom can't read Eddie's mind and they reproduce asexually, so I kind of wanted to try something where they didn't dive straight into the kinky tentacle sex. So, uh, have sightly tamer mind control sex instead? [Follow me on tumblr if you want!](https://uninspiredwriting.tumblr.com/)

**Eddie.**

He wakes. Unconsciousness tries to tug him back under like quicksand. He was dreaming, had been dreaming. Pleasant dreams. He wants to go back to them, wants to go back to sleep.

Slowly, he becomes aware of himself, becomes aware of his limbs, his mouth like sawdust, his hard, aching cock.

_Oh._

Not all sex dreams are wild and wonderful. He remembers – warm sun on his skin, his own hand wrapped tight around his cock, the sound of waves. Later, the dream will slip from his memory, like trying to hold sand.

Eddie squirms, his cock throbbing from the pressure of his own body weight, the tip wet with pre-come. If he had only been allowed to dream for a few more minutes…

**Eddie.**

He flinches. Venom has no volume control, demanding his attention, impossible to ignore. Eddie sucks in a shaky breath. They have not discussed this – he hasn’t even thought about it. Too much going on. Sex has seemed distant and strange and he hadn’t wanted to deal with the idea of his alien ‘friend’ coming along for the ride.

Apparently, six weeks was too long, and his body has not received that particular memo.

“Fuck,” he sighs. He doesn’t move. Moving would mean acknowledging his predicament.

**Eddie, I’m hungry.**

“We talked about this.” He needs rest, Venom can’t keep waking him whenever they want something. Eddie feels Venom bristle, feels their frustration. “Later, buddy,” he promises, his tone softening. His cock very much does not.

**No.**

Language does not come as naturally to Venom as violence. They communicate better through something more primal, raw sensation, raw emotion. Eddie gasps as Venom feeds his own arousal through them, bouncing back and forth like an echo. He grinds into the bed.

**Yesss.**

Venom feeds that back to them, too. Eddie groans, something low in his stomach clenching tightly, his breath catching. It feels good. It feels even better when Venom echoes it, stretching it out like a ripple. His cock jerks. Guilt follows. Venom feels that, too.

**Why, Eddie? It feels good.**

Venom is all id. There is no guilt, there are just urges and impulses. They only listen to Eddie, and even then, they often decide that they know better.

Eddie, however, was raised Catholic. And whilst the idea that God is watching (yes, even when he was jerking off) has been ingrained into him, it has never been quite as visceral as Venom’s burning, curling curiosity is now.

He can’t say no, but he can’t say yes either, torn between desire and deep discomfort.

The next roll of Eddie’s hips is not his own. It takes him by surprise, his cock dragging against the sheets. He jerks, hissing through his teeth.

“Venom,” he says. He means it as a complaint, means it as a warning, but it comes out plaintive and needy. He feels his cheeks flush.

Their hips roll again, grinding down deliciously. It’s been _so fucking long_. He wants to give into it, wants to let Venom have him, but he can’t.

Eddie tries to roll onto his back. His brain sends the signals to his muscles, but they don’t move. They don’t even twitch. Realisation dawns and Eddie swears, his cock throbbing hard. He isn’t a stranger to bondage, but this is the most effective and frightening form that he has ever experienced.

Panic rises along with his arousal. Sometimes, he has night terrors – awake, conscious, but unable to move or speak.

**Relax, Eddie.**

And he does. They do. He’s not sure how much of it is him and how much of it is Venom _making_ them, but the tension bleeds out of him.

They start fucking the bed in earnest, entirely out of Eddie’s control. They grind down into the mattress, the cheap sheets too rough on his bloated, sensitive cockhead. It feels wonderful, amazing, the best he’s ever had, and all they’re doing is humping the bed like a horny teenager.

“Fuck,” he says, his voice thick and heavy and low. He thinks he will last an embarrassingly short amount of time, seconds, he feels it coming, feels their balls drawing up.

But orgasm is a surrender of sorts, and Venom has never surrendered to anything. They don’t know how.

Eddie’s cock twitches and leaks and they don’t come. He whines. He’s moving with Venom now, totally with them, not fighting them at all. He knows what he must look like – he sleeps naked and the sheets are long gone, his ass clenching every time he drives their aching cock into the sheets.

Seconds become minutes. Sweat beads on their skin, drips down their face.

“Please,” Eddie gasps. He’s not sure what the problem is, why won’t they just _come_? Getting there has never been a problem for him before. He’s been edged, sure, but this is like falling and falling and never hitting the bottom. Every single thrust feels like it should make him come. It feels like they should have come minutes ago, hours ago, _days_ ago.

“ _Pleasepleaseplease_ ,” he whimpers, all in one breath.

Venom feels their frustration and echoes that back, too, along with the pleasure. Eddie’s toes curls with the intensity. He still doesn’t come.

Frantic, Eddie digs up memories. His last orgasm – alone, on the couch, his hand wrapped around his cock. His first orgasm – not dissimilar to what they are doing now. He concentrates on how they felt, pushes it at Venom, clumsy and aggressive with need.

**_Oh._ **

And then they are coming. Eddie holds his breath, his brain whiting out. Their cock twitches and spurts. Venom is still driving them down into the bed and Eddie is shuddering and whimpering, the muscles in his thighs and ass tensing and releasing with every spasm.

It lasts an impossibly long time, puts every other lover he’s had to shame as it reverberates back and forth, an echo chamber of pleasure. Finally, they are done, and Venom stops moving them. The sheets below them are wet and sticky. They relax, boneless, and Eddie’s body is his own again, but only because Venom allows it.

**That felt good, Eddie.**

An understatement. If Eddie weren’t so exhausted, he would laugh. His initial instinct is to start dissecting what just happened, pull it apart and chew at it, but it’s hard to care about anything when Venom is radiating such contentment and warmth at him.

**Sleep.**

And they do.


End file.
